


The Second Death

by k_mission



Series: Everything I've Written About Destiny Sort of in Order [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games), Destiny - Fandom, Destiny 2 - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M, Red War, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 02:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16823617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k_mission/pseuds/k_mission
Summary: Guardians face the cost of fighting to reclaim their home.





	The Second Death

**Author's Note:**

> [Very mild gore warning? Someone's about to get hurt real bad, but it's more about the reaction than anything.]

He sees the Colossus come around the corner--they all do. Behind him, a Warlock swears, but Gered doesn’t have time for cursing. They’ve all been caught off guard, fighting off Cabal from all sides, scrambling with the explosives--a payload meant to help reclaim the City, now likely to be their end. He lifts his auto rifle to shoot, but he’s too slow.

The Colossus fires. He watches the rockets begin making trails in the air. As the blinding white of the flashbang overtakes his vision, he sees Ian move--sees him leap.

There is no roar of a half-tonne of ordinances exploding; the fire and the heat never find him.

Instead, there is a heavy _thud_.  
Instead, there is a cold dread washing through him.

Vision still clearing, he staggers forward, knowing but refusing to believe until he sees him. Ian. Sprawled on the ground, a chunk of his armor ripped clear off his side where his body became their shield. He’s still breathing when Gered reaches his side, laboured and harsh. He cries out in pain only once as he moves him, then slings his arm over Gered’s shoulder, trying to help in his own rescue. The noises he makes against gritted teeth are almost harder to hear.

Not all of the Guardians with them are ones he’s met before--not all of the team _are_ Guardians. But three of the Hunters Ian found in the Wilds when they were fresh, ones he brought to the Tower and helped through their early years--some of his ‘kids’. Some of the rest have only heard the stories--hundreds of years a Guardian to fall tonight. Gered knows as he lifts him to his chest that the others will cover him with everything they’ve got.

“Hang on. Hold on. You have to hold on.”

Ian doesn’t answer him. He uses his hip to help steady Crimson and shoots, felling a Cabal advancing on them. The staccato of the burst fades and so does the rest of the gunfire. In the quiet that follows, Ian’s head falls heavily against the plate on his chest, and the gun clatters from his fingers. As Gered carefully lowers himself to his knees, Ian’s Ghost hovers above him, darts about frantically, too damaged to speak. Too damaged to heal him.

“It’s okay, Frankie, I know,” Ian says, responding to the silent hysterics.

He lifts his hand to the wound, but Gered presses his own over it first. It’s the only thing he can do, and a sick feeling in his gut says Ian doesn’t have the strength left to apply enough pressure.

The others begin to organize; they still need to deliver the payload. A couple hover, uncertain what to say, but there’s no time to come up with the right words.

“We’ll hold here,” Gered tells them. _Leave us behind._

He could fight still--he could pick his gun back up. But tonight they are fighting for their home back, and his is in his arms, slipping further and further away from him. A young Hunter touches his shoulder as she passes, in minutes he can no longer hear them.

Gered takes a brief moment to pull his helmet off, works more gently on Ian’s.

“That’s better,” he says quietly.

Ian gives him a weak smile, shifts painfully in his arms to see him better, to see the Traveler above them, silent and caged. Gered looks up, too. None of his prayers have ever been answered, but he is praying now with everything he has.

Ian’s eyes have begun to slide closed when he looks back down.

“Hey. No, no. Come on. Stay with me. I know it hurts, but you have to stay awake.”

“I’m here.”

Ian rests his hand over Gered’s on his side. There’s a rattle in his breathing now that makes the panic hard to fight. Frankie’s movements are more erratic, more desperate.

“You gotta… look after Frankie. And the kids. You’re no hunter but--”

“No. You’re going to do it. You’re going to be here. They’ll eat me alive, all those wild things.” He tries for the joke even though his voice is strained.

“And they’ll look after you.” It’s a struggle for him to raise his hand to Gered’s cheek. “I love you. And all that’s left of me--”

“You’re not leaving me. You’re not leaving me.”

“Will always.”

“I can’t--” Exo’s voiceboxes aren’t made to crack, but the emotion breaks his words. He should answer in kind, but the words choke half-formed. It makes it sound too much like acceptance, like goodbye. “Please don’t.”

As if there is anything he can do.

He’s never been fully sure if he believes dead Guardians return to the Light, but right now he knows only one thing with absolute certainty--the Light is gone, and there is nothing for Ian to return to. If he loses him now, there is nothing. No comfort, no lingering, no hope. He presses his hand over Ian’s on his cheek.

No second chance.

“I love you,” he whispers, in case he can’t say it again.

Ian’s smile is so tired, so heartbroken. He gathers him closer, fights harder than he ever has in his life not to sob. Ian’s eyelids flicker, start to close. Gered turns his gaze back up to the Traveler, the burnt out light that guided them all this way, and pleads.


End file.
